


There's No Use

by Changing



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 11:19:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Changing/pseuds/Changing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>FEM!WHO </p><p>A female Doctor is choosing her attire in the TARDIS. Some actual plot occurs. Mostly just feelings. And boobs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's No Use

**Author's Note:**

> If it offends/annoys you that I have a female Doctor cast in my story then get out right now. Otherwise, enjoy a small offering of my thought process.  
> In my mind the first female Doctor would come after the 12th regeneration of The Doctor simply because that's where his regeneration energy he was born with would stop. However, River Song gave him what was left of hers and because of physics I can make up I say it has some effect on the gender and/or apparent species of a Time Lord. I have tried to keep The Doctor as close to character as possible. There's no scene containing the regeneration from 12 to what would be the 13th Doctor because I don't know how I want that to go down. 
> 
> Honestly I hope to continue with this Doctor, she's kinda grown on me. 
> 
> On another note, I use what would now be considered 'gender correct' pronouns. It's my head-cannon that The Doctor thinks and refers to himself in Gallifreyan and his native tongue has at least 13 different pronouns to refer to themselves and past selves and so on.

Then there was the matter of dressing this new body. She’d never had to dress practically as a woman before. And all her wardrobe had were robes and gowns and skirts. Blech! She was NOT wearing a skirt. Not happening. She looked at herself in the full mirror dressed in only the pants left from her last form. Running her hand down her sides she estimated the size; she wasn’t much thinner than River was, though, her chest was much less impressive, she thought as she cupped her breasts. Strange to think, she had breasts now. Stranger to think she’d better find a bra as well. She was slightly disheartened that she wouldn’t fit into one of River’s. The Doctor’s curves were slighter than Rose’s, though she was about the same height, and she was nearer to Amy’s shape when she thought about it. Had either of them left anything? Even something of Martha’s may do. She asked the TARDIS. The machine rumbled and clicked her reply and led her to Amy and Rory’s old room. 

She hadn’t been inside since, well, since and wasn't looking forward to it as she made her way down the halls. After tying shut her dressing robe, which swamped her, and trying not to think about how it was Jackie Tyler’s suiter’s that she’d stolen her first day as her tenth self, because thoughts like that always led back to...NOPE...she opened the door to the room that her two closest friends, her in-laws, had shared. A few articles of Amy’s clothing lay scattered on the floor and The Doctor opened the drawer of the dresser to find undergarments and camisoles. She could feel her past selves cringe at the sight of the panties and bras but to be honest, and this may be her new found feminine side, they were kinda pretty. A couple of them definitely chosen to go with Amy’s fiery red hair. Lucky girl, The Doctor scowled, at least she got to be ginger. She combed a hand through her new hair. This new form was an comely brunette. 

Quickly making her decision and not putting any more thought into the matter of wearing her friend’s undergarments than was strictly needed, she slipped them on deftly and as fast as physically possible then made her way into the closet to see if there was anything suitable to wear. 

Her reflection caught her eye in a mirror on the door and she couldn't help but admire it; she’d always loved a woman with curves. Having always been so slim and boney, though still incredibly attractive and drop-dead handsome thank you, she enjoyed the contrast of shape. She was fair skinned and patterned with freckles all across her shoulders. She wasn't unattractive and still possessed a 'nerdy' look in her face. Would look better with glasses, she thought. This hair was thick brown with a wavy texture. She couldn’t help but admire herself now. Still the sexiest thing in the universe, besides her TARDIS, of course. She winked at her reflection with now green eyes and turned to the clothes hanging in the closet. There were a few skirts, several leggings and tights, and a some shirts. No pants. How rude? 

Well, that decides that. 

The Doctor threw the dressing gown back over her shoulders and continued through the corridors wondering who would have left some trousers. 

It was becoming more of an annoyance the further down the halls she traveled. Caught up in her internal rant about how rude her companions were and that they could have at least left a few articles of ACTUAL clothing, she didn’t realize the TARDIS led her to the bedroom she’d occasionally shared with Rose.

Being a Time Lord she didn’t need sleep as humans did and so, rarely slept. But there was something comforting in sharing a night with someone she cared so deeply for. It had started rather not-so-innocently, and unintentionally. It just happened; the adrenaline, the hormones, the humanity of it all was happening so quickly, even she had trouble keeping up with what was going on. The realization hadn’t even dawned on her until the next morning when she woke up with her human in her arms, both of them naked. Even then it took her a few moments to draw the conclusion and from that point on neither of them acknowledged that what happened had happened. The Doctor shook her head, she really had been so young. So unaware of their feelings for each other and yet they knew, they both knew that those nights they’d spent together, because, while unacknowledged, it seemed to happen rather often, became their way of saying it. 

She recalled the words she’d admitted, in Gallifreyan, when she was too afraid to speak them in a language Rose could understand. And she was almost relieved Rose never understood. In a way she was a child, The Doctor. So brand new to such powerful love but so well versed in losing it. She was so afraid of how deeply she loved Rose Tyler that she couldn’t let herself say it out loud. Hopeful that somehow that would make it hurt less when she finally had to let go. 

She was so, very wrong. She left it at that.

There was a stillness in the room that The Doctor hadn’t expected. Sure, she figured it to be empty, without Rose but there was always an energy about the TARDIS. Always something humming in the background and Rose herself had been such an energetic human. But here, there was nothing. Not even the smallest breath of life; completely devoid of Rose and her TARDIS. Another reminder that her friend was truely gone from this universe. 

Shaking herself out of it she stepped into the bedroom her hand finding the wall as she walked. It was warm, as the TARDIS usually was and that was somehow comforting. The Doctor and the TARDIS were still here even though Rose was not. The closet was mostly empty, she’d left most of Rose’s things with her on the second trip to Norway, beyond the rift.

However, in the closet there was, sitting on a shelf, a folded pair of worn denim jeans. Across the shelf was a single, lonely tee-shirt up on a hanger. The union jack painted boldly on the front. The Doctor tore that down with the pants and, shedding the dressing robe, slipped them on quickly as possible. She could still smell Rose faintly in the garments and the thought, instead of comforting her, brought the sadness back and forced her to move faster, running out of the room before the tears caught up with her.

Her Rose is gone because she couldn’t bring herself to do what needed to be done. Meta Crisis Time Lords should never exist. And yet, just one universe away, there was a living one. It would have been well within her rights and the laws of Gallifrey to dispose of the ‘other’ Doctor and live happily with her Rose.

But no. She had been a selfish old man. She couldn’t live with herself, nor expect Rose to live, with the man who killed himself for the sake of keeping a pretty little girl with him ‘forever,’ as she’d promised. She couldn’t let Rose see her that way, in the light that so many saw her. The Oncoming Storm, The Predator, A man whose name alone strikes fear into entire planetary systems. She never wanted to give Rose evidence to those titles. She was The Doctor. A protector; a helper. No longer meddlesome or blood thirsty. Never again. It’s not The Doctor.

So she ran. She ran through the TARDIS and wound up in the console room. She ran her hands over the levers and buttons, trying to console herself with the touch of her machine. She spun around the control panel frantically, hoping the familiarity of the actions would shut up her mind. But it didn’t. She had finally hung her head in defeat, holding tightly onto the edge of the control panel willing off the sobs threatening to rack through her body, when the TARDIS dropped something onto the captain’s chair. It landed with a soft ‘ploosh’ loud enough to pull The Doctor’s head up slightly. 

Laying in the chair was a denim jacket. 

River’s denim jacket. 

The Doctor lowered her head again and laughed humorlessly with a tight, disparaging sound passing her lips. 

“Really?” She sighed into the laughter. She gritted her teeth and released the control panel making her way slowly to the chair with measured, clipped steps. Her feet were still bare, besides a pair of socks she had found in Amy and Rory’s room, she was certain they weren’t theirs but paid no other mind to them, and the silence through the TARDIS grew deafening. Her ears rang and her hearts pounded in her chest both of them threatening to climb right out of her sternum and on to the floor. A morbid thought passed through her head encouraging the muscles to do so and end everything right here and now. She glared at the jacket, her hatred self centered, as usual but radiating off every bit of her. She had reached the chair in a few steps more than would have taken her last body and wasn’t that an interesting tidbit of information? So very important to know when you’re walking toward the jacket of a dead woman. Your dead wife’s coat. So nice to know her mind was still there to distract her from the suicidal and homicidal thoughts this jacket was currently giving her.

She picked up the jacket and they stopped. Her hearts softened to a more suitable volume and weren’t attempting their escape from her body. Her mind stopped screaming her guilty conscious and all other concerns left. The soft denim of the jacket, the warmth it held to the touch and the scent of her Pond floating up above her head now, mixing with Rose’s shirt and pants were enough to stop the Oncoming Storm from brewing in her self-destruction. 

There was a calm in the TARDIS that The Doctor had not felt in centuries. A calm that was only ever present when River was there. The TARDIS reacted much as a mother would to seeing her child with a warm hug and joyful sigh. The machine herself seemed to feel as if River was truly right there with them.

The Doctor smiled faintly. She tried to tell her River there was no use in saying ‘goodbye.’ Because here is her impossible wife, showing her up again. Figures. The Doctor chuckled.

She gently pulled the jacket over her shoulders and hugged it close. She smelled the fabric again and there was River’s energetic smell. The excitement normally radiating off of her wife was woven into the garment and The Doctor felt at home for the first time in years. The motivation to travel, to move, was suddenly back in her bones and she nearly jumped. 

Sighing, happily this time, she turned to the control panel, bounding down the steps to the levers and buttons and even using the blue boringers.

Throwing up this, clicking that, and lighting up only one half of this side panel, The Doctor put her TARDIS into gear and shoved her hands in her jacket pockets to admire her work. 

Her left hand ran into something in the pocket, though, something very much there and she pulled her hand out in surprise. Patting the pocket to be sure it was real, she put her hand in again and pulled out a sonic screwdriver. 

It wasn’t her’s. In fact, she’d never seen it before--wait. Yes she had. But the one she had seen had been much, much older. There had been more to it. THIS sonic was slender and very much cleaner than the one she’d seen. Her eyebrows furrowed. It was most definitely River’s sonic, but then how did she have it--

The Doctor’s eyes widened and she broke into a big, big smile. She laughed heartily and flipped the sonic around her fingers. She ran to the control panel and turned down the TARDIS, re-entering the coordinates as she sent them back off through the vortex with a flourish. 

The Doctor had tried to tell her there was no use in saying 'goodbye.'


End file.
